


Brothers In Arms

by loxleyprince



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loxleyprince/pseuds/loxleyprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When personal tragedy strikes Chief,  Garrison is forced to confront a home truth he's been trying hard to ignore, but will his handling of the situation be Chief's salvation, or his damnation? Actor is determined that one tragedy will not lead to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers In Arms

**Author's Note:**

> In loving memory of Svetlanacat4, who loved Garrison's Gorillas, but sadly did not live to read this story.

“Warden?” 

Chief’s voice came out of the darkness and Garrison started at the sound. His scout’s almost uncanny ability to move silently could still catch him off-guard if he was operating anywhere below his best, and he was a long way from that now. 

All of the team were. 

Back-to-back missions had left them exhausted and Garrison couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than a couple of hours of snatched sleep. Chief had had even less than the others, doing most of the driving through the night to get them to the extraction point. That they’d managed to complete the mission successfully frankly amazed the tired officer. 

Well, they’d get a break now. With both Casino and Goniff injured, not even Wilcox would be able to send them out again for at least a week, maybe even ten days. Garrison sighed at the prospect of an entire week without a mission. Right now, he’d trade it all for just one night of undisturbed sleep. 

Dragging his attention back to the youngest member of his unusual team, Garrison replied. “Yes, Chief?” 

“You know where they’ll fly us to?” The words were spoken softly, the tone casual, almost dismissive, but Garrison wasn’t fooled. Chief rarely spoke without a damn good reason. “White Waltham. Why?” 

Chief chewed his bottom lip then gazed into the night. “What time’ll we get home?” he asked, ignoring his commander’s question. 

Garrison dropped his head to hide his smile at Chief’s reference to the mansion as home. He suspected that it was the only place the young man had considered ‘home’ in a very long time. “Around 1200 to the airbase, so around 1330 to the mansion. Again, why?” In the darkness, Garrison could only just see Chief shrug. Help came from an unexpected quarter.

“You got a hot date or something?” Casino asked past Actor’s shoulder. The Italian was replacing the bandage on the safecracker’s calf. 

“Or something,” Chief replied softly, knowing that Casino was most likely talking to keep his mind off what Actor was doing. Although not serious, the bullet wound must still be hurting like hell. 

“Well I hope she’s the undemanding type ‘cos you ain’t slept in three days, baby. You get her anywhere warm and dark and you’ll be asleep before you see any action,” Casino added knowingly.

Patting Casino on his good thigh, Actor turned his attention to where Garrison was gently washing blood from the back of Goniff’s head. The little thief had landed heavily and been knocked unconscious by the impact, the resulting concussion forcing him to sit out the mission. Even now, the cut on his head still bled sluggishly and any movement left him dizzy and nauseous.

“You were hoping we would fly into Archbury so that you could see your brother, weren’t you?” 

Although the words were phrased as a question, Actor made it sound like a statement. Chief marvelled at the con-man’s ability to figure things out. “Yeah,” he admitted softly.

“I was intending to go to Archbury myself. The lovely Sarah’s shift finishes at 1700 today, so if you would like a lift, and the Warden will allow us the use of one of the jeeps, I would be more than happy to drive us both there.“ 

Actor knew that Chief was exhausted, so something important had to be behind his very obvious desire to see his brother. He resisted the temptation to press the young man for details. There would be time enough on the drive from the estate to the airbase and Chief would be more likely to talk to him if the others were not there. Not that Chief was ever particularly talkative, but the constant interruptions from Casino and Goniff would be certain conversation-killers. 

“Sure you can,” Garrison said quietly, lifting Goniff’s hand to the dressing he had placed over the thief’s bleeding scalp. “Hold that there, Goniff,” he instructed softly. “Actor, can you see if…” 

Whatever else he was going to say was curtailed by Chief’s abruptly raised hand. 

“Plane.” 

After uttering the word, Chief slipped silently back into the darkness to light the signal fire that would guide the pilot to their position. It was a good thirty seconds before any of the others heard the drone of the aircraft’s engines. 

The pickup was accomplished without incident, Garrison and Actor carrying first Goniff and then Casino to the plane, while Chief doused the signal fire and kept an eye out for enemy soldiers. After a bumpy taxi across the field, the little aircraft took off and headed towards England and safety.

***

“How’d you know?”

The question was softly spoken, the words a characteristic drawl. 

“Know what?” Actor asked, not talking his eyes off the road. When they'd taken their leave of Goniff and Casino at the military hospital, the sky had been dark with thunderclouds. Now the storm was upon them with a vengeance and the driving rain and gusting wind were making driving conditions treacherous. 

“That I wanted to see Danny?” Chief elaborated. 

“How do you know when danger threatens you?” Actor asked.

“You always answer a question with a question?” Chief’s words were spoken without rancour. 

Actor smiled. “Frequently,” he admitted. Chief had not only noticed, but was seemingly taken a leaf out of his own book. _Touché_ , the suave Italian thought wryly. He waited patiently. 

“Some of it’s looking for sign. Some’s just… gut feel. Get a sense for it. Can’t explain.” 

Chief shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with his inability to explain it any better. Actor felt privileged that he had even tried. If Chief could make the effort, it would be churlish not to reciprocate. “Precisely,” he agreed. “I have trained myself to observe, to gather information. Then I review the information, work through a variety of scenarios to see which ones best fit with the information and draw my conclusions. But, beyond that, I, too, rely on instinct. I go on my gut feel, as you do. When it comes to what people are thinking, or intending to do, I have learnt that my gut feel is usually very reliable indeed.”

Actor had often found himself wondering why his intuition was so accurate. He had tried to rationalize it on many occasions, basing his reasoning firmly in logic, but had always found his explanations lacking. There were times when he just knew the rightness or wrongness of a situation, sometimes in direct contradiction of the evidence. He could explain it no better than Chief had. 

_Gut feel._

Chief nodded his understanding. “That why you’re so good a con man?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Actor answered. “Although I am sure that my good looks and natural charm also contribute to my success.” The smile in his voice tempered the vanity of the statement. 

Chief laughed softly, a musical, lyrical sound. Actor wished he would laugh more often, for it quite transformed him. Judging this to be as good a time as any to broach the subject, he voiced the question he had wanted to ask since early that morning. “Why is it so important that you see Danny today?” 

For a long while Chief did not reply and Actor had all but given up hope that he would, when, 

“Birthday.” The quiet word was almost lost to the fury of the storm. 

“An important one?” 

Again there was a hesitation before “Eighteenth.” 

“Momentous indeed,” said Actor. “Please wish your brother many happy returns of the day from me.” He was pleased for his young friend. The brothers had been estranged for several years and Actor knew that their recent reunion had been especially difficult for Chief. Whilst he did not know what overshadowed Chief’s relationship with his brother, the Italian was happy that they were now sufficiently reconciled as to be sharing occasions like their birthdays.

“Missed most of them,” Chief murmured. “Weren’t gonna miss this one.” 

“Then I suggest that you try and get some sleep,” Actor advised. “It will not do for you to fall asleep in the middle of the festivities.” 

“Way you’re driving?” Chief asked incredulously. There was just the hint of a smile in his voice and this time it was Actor who laughed. 

“My driving will still get you there faster than if you walked, which is always an option, and could still be arranged.”

Chief shifted in the passenger seat, pulled his coat more tightly around his body against the swirling wind and rain, and closed his eyes. 

Actor glanced at him affectionately before returning his attention back to the road.

***

As they pulled up to the security gate at Archbury airfield, it was immediately apparent that something bad was happening. The entire base was in turmoil. Ambulances and fire-tenders screamed around the perimeter track and the burned-out fuselage of a B-17 littered the grass to one side of the runway. The flaming remains of a second aircraft burned fiercely just within the perimeter fence.

Several trucks were trying to drag the wreckage of the first plane away from the runway even as other planes landed dangerously close to them. 

Actor glanced at his young friend, Chief’s face an impenetrable mask. Somewhere out there, amidst the chaos, was Chief’s brother. 

“What’s happening?” Actor asked the guard who came forward to meet them. 

“Hey Actor, Chief. Jeez, you guys picked a bad time to visit. The boys are coming back from a raid on Regensburg and by the sound of it, they got creamed. First crew back said the German fighters were all over them the minute they crossed the coast. We’ve only got about half the planes back so far. Ain’t sure how many we’ve lost, or how many more are gonna make it.” 

_“The Big Easy?_ ” asked Chief, unable to keep the worry from his voice. The guard shook his head

“I’m sorry Chief – I don’t know. I ain’t seen all the planes that landed. If you head over to the control tower, Sandy’s there. He’ll know.” 

The guard waved them through the gate. They drove the rest of the way to the control tower in silence.

***

They found a grim-faced Sandy Komansky standing beneath the control tower, sheltering as best he could from the rain and wind. As they approached, he spoke briefly to the man beside him, who turned and climbed the steps leading up to the control room. Sandy walked forward to meet Actor and Chief.

“ _The Big Easy?_ ” Chief said without preamble, his terse enquiry betraying his concern. 

“Still airborne,” came the equally terse reply. Actor could tell from the expression on the flight sergeant’s face this was not the only information Sandy had about the aircraft. 

“In what condition?” Actor asked carefully. 

Although he was answering Actor’s question, Sandy addressed Chief when he spoke. “Not good. They got hit pretty bad and the _Easy’s_ flying on two engines. Danny’s alive, Chief, but the turret mechanism jammed and they couldn’t get him out. Most of the crew bailed out over the south coast,” Sandy glanced away, “the ones that were still alive, so there’s just Cap’n Reilly and Danny on board now. If the Cap’n can get the _Easy_ back, we’ll get Danny out.”

Chief nodded once. He fixed his gaze on the sky and looked to the east, the direction from which the planes were returning. “They be long?” he asked softly. 

“Half an hour, maybe less,” Sandy finished. His brow furrowed. 

If they get here at all, thought Actor, seeing the frown. 

“How can we help?” Chief asked quietly.

“You can give blood,” Sandy replied. “We’ve used up the supply on the base and even the local hospital’s running low now. Doc’s set up over there.” He gestured towards a Nissan hut from which a line of grim-faced, silent men stretched into the night.

Chief nodded and started walking towards it. “If I hear anything more, I’ll come find you.” Sandy added. Chief did not look back. Actor watched Chief until he was sure that the man was out of earshot and then turned back to face the young flight sergeant. 

“Sandy, what are Danny’s chances?” 

Komansky’s face was grim. “Not good. I didn’t want to say it in front of Chief, but Cap’n Reilly said his belly gunner’d been wounded, so it isn’t just that he’s trapped.” He looked away, sighed heavily, and then looked back. “Actor, if you can get Chief away from here, I reckon you should.” 

Actor nodded his understanding and agreement. Sandy didn’t think that Danny would survive and neither man wanted Chief to see his brother die. Unfortunately, Actor also knew that Chief would not leave.

***

The sound of _The Big Easy’s_ engines could be heard through the low cloud long before the plane came into view, but that did nothing to dispel the tension in the men gathered at the runway’s edge.

The engine noise was laboured and erratic. 

Actor heard Chief’s sharp intake of breath and offered up a quick prayer that this day not end in tragedy. 

_The Big Easy_ loomed out of the cloud, two engines feathered, one misfiring, and the last silently trailing black smoke. The plane lurched drunkenly as her pilot fought to keep her in the air long enough to make the safety of the runway. Even from a distance, the terrible damage that had been sustained by the plane was clearly visible to the men on the ground. 

From nose to tail, the aircraft’s fuselage was peppered with bullet holes, and a jagged tear marred _The Big Easy’s_ underbelly where flak had ripped a hole clean through the underside of the plane. Fusing the ball turret mechanism, Actor thought, and trapping and injuring Chief’s brother. He found it hard to believe that anyone could have survived inside that plane. He glanced again at the young Indian; saw worry and fear etched on the normally impassive face. 

_Dear God, he has so little. Don’t take even that from him…_

Someone behind them cursed, but Actor only had eyes for the crippled aircraft in front of him, now making its final approach. There would be no second chance. The pilot had to land her first time around or he would not be landing her at all. 

_The Big Easy_ swept overhead, so low that Actor found himself ducking involuntarily. The plane landed heavily on one wheel first, then the other, before slewing off the runway and onto the grass. There was a tortured rending of metal as the grass tore at the undercarriage, but it held and the aircraft rolled to a shuddering halt. 

Chief was running for the plane before the _Easy_ stopped moving, catching Actor by surprise. Then the Italian was sprinting after his friend, grateful that his longer legs compensated for his lack of youth. He blessed Garrison for the many times he had forced them around the obstacle course in the mansion grounds. Actor was fitter now than he had ever been in his life. 

There was a loud explosion and the last functioning engine on _The Big Easy_ burst into flames. Fanned by the swirling wind, the flames blew against the fuselage, licking around the midsection of the plane, igniting the fuel that had leaked from the other port engine. Within seconds both the wing and the mid-section of the fuselage were ablaze. 

Fire-tenders raced to where the _Easy_ had come to rest, their lights flashing and bells ringing. 

Yet, even as he ran, Actor knew they would be too late. 

They would all be too late.

***

Preparing to throw himself through the flames engulfing the stricken plane, Chief was abruptly knocked off his feet and borne to the ground. Struggling to rise, he was dragged into Actor’s arms and held in an iron grip.

“No Chief!! It would be suicide!!” 

Chief ignored the words, ignored the desperate concern of his friend, the logic that told him he was already too late, and fought like a madman to get to the fiercely burning plane. Through the flames he could see his brother moving weakly inside the belly turret. 

“Danny! DANNY!” 

Captain Reilly dropped onto the grass below the cockpit and headed for the flaming midsection of the plane and his trapped gunner. He was intercepted by Colonel Gallagher who dragged him bodily away from the aircraft. Struggling to break free so that he could get to his trapped crewman, the pilot was abruptly felled by a roundhouse punch from the colonel. Catching the pilot as he collapsed, Gallagher gently lowered the unconscious Reilly to the grass and crouched protectively beside him. 

The Colonel’s searching gaze momentarily locked with Actor’s, the faces of both men starkly reflecting the horror of what they were witnessing and the pain of what they were being forced to do. 

In the driving rain, Actor fought to retain his hold of Chief. It was like wrestling a wildcat, but Actor held on grimly, fleetingly grateful that, in his frenzied desire to get to his brother, Chief had not thought to pull his knife. If Chief broke free, he would die in the same flames that would very soon kill his brother.

When the screams began, Actor was so shocked that he almost lost his tenuous hold on Chief. The young Indian thrashed hysterically in Actor’s arms, frantic to get to his brother, sobbing Danny’s name. Horrified, Actor dragged Chief beneath him, using his weight, as well as every bit of his strength, to immobilize the young man, grinding Chief’s body into the rain-sodden turf beneath his own. 

The screams rose in pitch and suddenly all the fight went out of Chief. Shaking in horror, his mouth open but devoid of sound, he stretched an arm out helplessly towards his dying brother. Silent tears streamed down his face. 

Sitting up, Actor pulled the young Indian into his arms and turned Chief’s head into the shelter of his chest, clamping his hands over Chief’s ears to drown out the sounds of his brother’s dying agony.

“Don’t listen!” Actor pleaded. “Oh God, Chief! Don’t listen!” 

His body wracked with silent sobs, Chief wept uncontrollably in the Italian’s arms.

***

Actor kept darting glances towards the silent figure huddled beside him. Chief was shivering uncontrollably, his face a mask of anguished pain, his eyes unfocused but still reflecting the horror of his loss. He had not responded to any of Actor’s many concerned enquiries.

 _Unsurprising, under the circumstances,_ Actor rationalised. _The man is in shock_.

He silently cursed himself for not thinking to borrow a flying jacket for the younger man to wear. Chief was soaked through and, in his present traumatised condition, Actor feared for his health. Quite the last thing Chief needed now was a bout of pneumonia. 

Forcing his attention back to the road, the con-man took a deep, calming breath and lifted his foot off the accelerator. He was driving far too fast for the prevailing weather conditions. It would not help Chief if he rolled the vehicle in his haste to get them home. 

_Home._

Since when had he thought of the mansion as home? _About as long as I have thought of these men as my family,_ Actor realised with a start. 

He forced his attention back to the road. 

He needed to get Chief warm and dry. A hot shower; that would do, then a hot, sweet drink to counter the shock. And a couple of sleeping tablets. They wouldn’t provide a lasting solution (and in all probability, Chief would refuse to take them, hating having his reflexes dulled by drugs) but the traumatised, exhausted young man needed respite from his pain. Sleep was the obvious solution, but sleep would be unlikely to come without assistance. 

_So…a hot shower, a hot drink, some sleeping tablets and then bed._

Again Actor forced himself to take his foot off the accelerator and decrease the speed of the jeep. 

_Then Chief would need…_

Sighing heavily Actor glanced again at his stricken friend, eyes narrowing at Chief’s obvious distress. 

_Then Chief would need Craig Garrison._

The problem was that Actor did not know if the American officer would be able to give Chief what he would now so desperately need, or if Garrison would even want to.

When he got back to the mansion, half-guiding, half-carrying Chief into the darkened hallway, Actor found, to his complete dismay, that Garrison was not there.

***

Stripping the sodden clothes from Chief’s unresisting body, Actor gently manoeuvred the younger man under the steaming stream of water. “Stay here, Chief,” he instructed quietly. “I will only be gone for a few minutes.”

Chief gave no sign that he had heard or understood. 

Actor walked briskly from the bathroom to Garrison’s office on the floor below and placed a call to Colonel Wilcox’s office. He was pleased to find himself talking to Alice, who had been Colonel Edwards’ secretary before Wilcox had replaced him. Alice was the soul of efficiency. She also had something of a soft spot for Actor. 

“Alice, my dear, it’s Actor. I need to speak urgently with Lieutenant Garrison. Is he there?” 

He sighed in relief when Alice replied that yes, the lieutenant was waiting to see the Colonel and if Actor hung on for just a minute, she’d put him on the line. 

Garrison answered the phone with a concerned “What’s up?” 

Actor told him simply. “Chief’s brother has been killed.” 

“Damn,” Garrison cursed softly. “How’s Chief?” 

“Not good,” Actor replied succinctly. “He is deeply traumatised.” 

“Where is he?” 

“Here at the mansion with me.”

“I’ll get back as soon as I can.” 

“I had hoped that you would be here when we returned,” Actor retorted, too tired and too upset to keep the censure and concern from his voice. “I trust that this summons does not mean that we have another mission. Chief is in no condition to go out again.” 

Garrison’s tone was characteristically soft and unexpectedly conciliatory. “I’ll make sure Colonel Wilcox knows that.” 

With a brief farewell, Actor rang off. Garrison frowned as he replaced the receiver. Whatever Wilcox wanted, the answer was going to be no. There was no way he was going to take the rest of his team out now. _Chief’s brother. Poor kid._ His chest constricted at the thought of how badly Chief would be hurting.

Running back to the bathroom, Actor found Chief exactly where he had left him. The water from the antique cistern had already run cold but Chief still stood under the now-frigid flow, shivering uncontrollably. Cursing softly in Italian, Actor hurriedly turned off the taps, wrapped a towel around Chief’s icy torso and briskly began to rub him dry.

***

Wrapping Chief in a dry towel, Actor considered his next move. Chief’s bedroom was a tiny attic garret at the top of the house, unlit and unheated, hardly suitable, considering his current condition and Actor was loath to abandon his traumatised friend to its remote isolation. Then there was the issue of the stairs leading up to the room which were narrow and steep. Considering the almost helpless state Chief was currently in, they would be nothing short of a death-trap.

Decision made, Actor gently steered Chief to his own room and sat him down on the edge of the large bed. He pulled the counterpane off the bed and wrapped it around the shaking shoulders of his young friend, then quietly instructed Chief to wait there while he made him something hot to drink. 

Taking the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time, Actor set a small saucepan of milk to heat on the stove and retrieved the tin of cocoa powder from the pantry. Leaving the milk to warm, he ran back to Garrison’s office and rifled through the medicine cabinet. 

Finding what he wanted, he pocketed the small bottle of pills before running back to the kitchen. He poured the now-hot milk into a large mug, stirred two heaped spoons of sugar into the steaming mug of cocoa and headed back to his room. 

Unable to run, he took the stairs three at a time.

Pushing open the bedroom door with his hip, Actor entered. “Chief, I want you to…” the words trailed off into silence. 

Chief was asleep on Actor’s bed, the counterpane pulled tightly around his body. With the lines of pain and grief temporarily eased from his face, he looked startlingly innocent, impossibly young. Tears streaked his ashen cheeks and Actor had to fight the urge to wipe them away. Placing the now-superfluous sleeping tablets and cocoa on the night stand, the Italian quietly opened one of the large wardrobes that lined the left wall of the room. He removed two blankets, laid one carefully over the sleeping form on his bed and dropped the second over the back of the armchair in the bay window. 

Stripping off his own mud-stained, rain-soaked clothing, Actor showered briefly in frigid water, cursing again, and donned a pair of pyjamas. Shrugging into his warm, woollen dressing gown, he added more wood to the fire to ensure that it burned through the night, then reached for the blanket on the chair. 

With the blanket draped over his legs Actor settled himself into the armchair with an exhausted sigh. Resting his head against the padded upholstery he closed his eyes and waited for Garrison to return. 

He did not know how long he had been asleep before Chief’s anguished cry startled him back to wakefulness.

***

“DANNY!!”

Chief was barely awake, shaking in the grip of the nightmare that was also horrific reality. Again he screamed his brother’s name as tears coursed down his face. Moving to the bed, Actor drew Chief towards him, holding the distraught man close and speaking softly to calm and reassure him. 

“Hush, Chief, hush. It will be all right.” The words rang hollow in the face of Chief’s pain. The young scout shook uncontrollably, his body wracked by huge, wrenching sobs as he cried out his horror and his grief. 

Actor gently stroked Chief’s back and, when the words that usually served him so faithfully abandoned him completely, offered the traumatised scout the comfort and shelter of his arms. For once, Chief did not shy away from the physical contact.

And then the desperate need for comfort altered, becoming an all-consuming hunger for reassurance of a different kind. Actor was suddenly and very intimately aware that the motion of Chief’s body against his own had become more rhythmic, overtly sexual. It did not surprise the worldly Italian. In the face of death, the need to reaffirm life was a common reaction – and one he had shamelessly exploited in cons before the war. 

Sex was a very basic way of reaffirming life. 

He eased himself down onto the bed and pulled Chief against his body. As a connoisseur of beauty in all its forms, Actor would have liked to make love to the younger man, but he was pragmatic enough to know that now was not the time for finesse. 

Or love. 

What Chief wanted was sex - pure and simple - and Actor would not deny him.

Chief ground his hips against the oh-so-responsive body of the Italian, mindless in his need to find release. He arched back with a cry as Actor’s hand closed around his erection, then thrust even more fiercely against the new resistance. 

With a hand on Chief’s buttocks, Actor pressed Chief’s groin against his own, increasing the friction, maximising the stimulation. Chief cried out again, his need savage in its urgency as he drove himself repeatedly into the tight, excruciatingly arousing grip of Actor’s hand. Actor increased the pressure of his fingers around Chief’s shaft and brushed his thumb over the sensitive head. 

Shuddering in reaction, Chief climaxed, a harsh cry that was half-pain, half-pleasure torn from his lips. Passion spent, his body exhausted, he slumped forward against Actor’s broad chest and pillowed his head there. 

Actor brought a hand up to gently stroke the dark head resting on his chest, ignoring his own painfully hard erection and unsatisfied need. Chief was asleep within minutes.

Outside the room, a stunned Garrison rested his head against the closed door and shut his eyes against the pain of his discovery. Devastated, he turned and slowly walked away.

***

Actor was not sure what had woken him but, from the loss of warmth and weight, he knew that Chief no longer shared his bed. He allowed his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim light offered by the embers in the hearth and was eventually able to pick out the still figure of Chief in the gloom. The young Indian was standing by the window, curtain drawn back, gazing out into the night.

Actor softly called his name. Chief let the curtain fall before turning silently to face him. 

“Come back to bed,” Actor said simply. “The night is cold.”

Chief sighed heavily then slowly walked back across the room. Actor held up the bedclothes so that Chief could get in beside him. He drew the unresisting man into his arms and bent forward to press a kiss to Chief’s lips. Chief slowly, very eloquently, turned his head to one side to avoid the offered intimacy. 

_Need, not love_ , Actor reminded himself, and gracefully withdrew. Propping his head up on one hand, he gazed into ebony eyes that were impossibly sad and suddenly uncertain. “I know that mine is not the bed you would choose to be in,” Actor said, very gently. “But until the time you find yourself by his side, you are welcome here.” 

Sighing again, Chief nodded once before pillowing his head on the soft, dark tangle of hair on Actor’s broad chest. 

“Sleep now,” Actor murmured, the words blowing gently against Chief’s face. “You are safe here. You are not alone.” Finally surrendering to his own exhaustion, Actor closed his eyes and was only dimly aware of Chief shifting in his embrace. Lips brushed softly against his own and he almost missed the barely audible sound that followed.

“Thanks.” 

It was the first word that Chief had spoken since watching his brother die.

***

Actor awoke to the sounds of birds singing, soft knocking on his door, and Garrison quietly calling his name. Glancing down at the body pressed intimately against his own, he was relieved to find that Chief still slept soundly. Softly, he called back.

“Warden?” 

“Mission briefing in fifteen minutes, Actor.” A slight hesitation, then, “I’m sorry.” 

Actor could barely contain his anger. Easing himself from Chief’s embrace, he tucked the counterpane snugly around the young scout’s body before striding to the door and opening it abruptly. 

Garrison was waiting for him in the corridor, leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest. 

Closing the door quietly behind him, Actor strode towards his commander, oblivious to his nakedness. “In God’s name why did you accept a mission now?” he asked furiously, waving a hand in Garrison’s face. “Did you listen to nothing that I said to you?“ 

Garrison remained silent in the face of Actor’s fury, allowing the Italian to have his say.

“It is not as though we are the only Special Forces unit operating in the European theatre. Why did you not refuse the assignment and request that Wilcox give it to another team?” 

“He did,” Garrison replied quietly. “They failed. Now we’ve got the mission.”

“My God!” Actor was incredulous. “So we are expected to complete a mission that has already failed once, with the Germans presumably forewarned by the first attempt and forearmed against a second?” 

Garrison attempted to stare his second down. “Something like that, yes,” he said levelly.

“Merde!” Actor swore. “It will be suicide!” he railed, voice rising, anger overriding his previous intention to not awaken the sleeping Chief. “We are already exhausted and Chief needs us here. Mother of God! He has just lost his brother! How can you think to abandon him now?”

A shadow passed across Garrison’s face. “Chief’s coming with us.” 

“No!” Actor shouted, utterly horrified. “He is in no state to go on a mission! You will get him killed!” 

“He goes with us.” Garrison’s voice was quiet, but resolute.

“Then you go without me!” Actor retorted angrily. He turned to walk back to his room. 

“Actor, that’ll get you a one-way ticket back to Alcatraz.” There was an edge to Garrison’s voice now. “Are you really prepared to throw away your chance of parole for this?”

“If it means that you will abandon this mission and Chief will be safe, then yes, I am!” Actor retorted angrily. Again he saw a shadow cross the young officer’s face but his fury would not let him dwell on its cause. 

Garrison felt sick to the pit of his stomach. It was rare that he found himself at odds with Actor and he hadn’t realised quite how much he’d come to rely on the stalwart Italian. He desperately needed Actor on his side now. 

_Chief would need them both._

Forcing the despair from his voice he said quietly, “Look, this isn’t negotiable. Whether you come along or not, I’m going, and Chief’s going with me. You know we’ll stand a better chance if you come with us. If you choose not to, then that’ll be your decision.” He locked gazes with his second. “Make sure it’s one you can live with.”

Anger made Actor speak without restraint. 

“Let me tell you how Chief’s brother died. He was trapped inside the turret of his aircraft when it caught fire. He was burned alive, screaming in agony, and Chief had the horrific misfortune to watch.” He watched as the blood drained from Garrison’s face. “The experience has left him deeply traumatised and he is in no condition to go on a mission. If Chief is hurt, if he is killed on this mission, will you be able to live with your decision, Lieutenant?” he finished brutally.

Garrison just stared at him, shocked to the core. _He hadn't known. Hadn't realised Chief had been there. Seen his brother die. Oh God, Chief…_

“I’m goin’.” 

The soft words caused both men to turn abruptly to face their source. Chief was standing in the doorway to Actor’s bedroom. Actor barely registered the fact that Chief was wearing his pyjama bottoms through the shock caused by his statement.

“You cannot!” The Italian’s voice was deeply concerned. 

“Ain’t lettin’ the Warden go alone. Neither will you.” Chief’s voice was firm, determined. 

“Chief, you don’t have to…” Actor started.

“I’m goin’,” Chief repeated, before turning his attention to Garrison. “Fifteen minutes?” 

Garrison’s reply was soft, gently encouraging. “That’s right, Chief.” 

Chief nodded once then turned and walked down the corridor towards the winding staircase that led to his tiny attic garret. 

“Chief?”

Halting, Chief swung round to again face his commander. 

“I’m sorry about Danny.” 

Taking a deep breath, Chief nodded once before continuing down the corridor. Garrison watched him go, sighed heavily, and turned back to face his irate second. "So, what’s it gonna be, Actor?” 

Actor glared back and Garrison was shocked to see the hatred in the Italian’s dark eyes.

“I will go,” Actor said icily, barely able to contain his fury and having to fight the urge to strike the officer. “But if Chief is hurt on this mission, I swear, I will kill you.” 

With that, Actor spun on his heels and strode back to his room, slamming the door behind him. 

Sagging against the wall, Garrison bowed his head and wearily closed his eyes. He may have won the battle but he still had to win the war. He sighed at the irony of the expression and forced himself to concentrate on the mission ahead. Actor hadn’t been far wrong when he’d said it would be suicidal. Garrison had said the same thing to Wilcox. 

Not that it had done him any more good than it had Actor.

Shivering, Garrison tamped down his very real fear that he wouldn’t be able to bring his men through the mission safely. Actor’s furious words rang in his ears. He did not doubt for one second that Actor had been in earnest when he made the threat. The Italian was certainly more than capable of carrying it through. 

“If Chief is hurt on this mission, I swear I will kill you.“ 

_You won’t need to,_ Garrison thought despairingly. _I’ll do it myself._

***

Garrison unfolded the blueprints of a building and laid them on the table top, anchoring the corners with an assortment of ashtrays and glassware. “This is the hotel. The microfilm is hidden somewhere in Room 27. We need to retrieve it.”

Actor could tell by Garrison’s refusal to make eye-contact that he was not telling them the whole story. “You said that another team had already failed to retrieve the microfilm.” Actor’s tone was deceptively mild. 

Garrison set his teeth and nodded. 

“Where, precisely, were they captured?” Actor continued. 

Garrison sighed. “Room 27.” 

“Were they captured alive?” 

“One of them was.” Garrison knew where Actor’s line of questioning was going, but he simply could not bring himself to just say the words without prompting. The more he thought about the mission, the more suicidal it seemed. 

“And he was in the hands of the Gestapo for how many days before he was executed?” Actor’s reasonable tones grated on Garrison’s frayed nerves.

“Four days,” Garrison said wearily.

“So it would be safe to assume that he broke before he was executed, that the Germans already have the microfilm, and that they will suspect anyone acting suspiciously near Room 27 of being an Allied agent.” Actor finished. He glared at his commander. “Would that be an accurate assessment, Lieutenant?” 

“Maybe,” Garrison said tightly. “But until we have proof to the contrary, we work on the assumption that that agent didn’t break and the microfilm is still in that room.” 

“And just how do you intend gaining access without arousing suspicion?” Actor asked haughtily, brushing what Garrison swore was an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve of his jacket.

“Maintenance,” Garrison replied, working hard to keep his own voice even. “We engineer an incident in the hotel that requires maintenance to be carried out inside the room. Then we turn up as the engineers and turn the room over under cover of fixing it.” He had Actor’s full attention now. 

The con man’s brow furrowed. “It could work.” Actor fished out his pipe and lit it. “It would need to be something that could not be fixed by the hotel’s handyman. Something electrical, perhaps? If we could flood the room, preferably from above, they would need to get an electrician in to check that the wiring was still safe.”

Garrison consulted the blueprint, tracing a finger over it lightly. “The room above has an en suite bathroom. We could slip in and leave the taps running.” 

Actor moved to stand beside the officer so that he could scrutinise the hotel plans, his earlier animosity forgotten as he concentrated on firming up the details of the con. “It is a shame that Casino is not here.”

Garrison smiled, fished in his pocket and held up a lock pick. “He’s been giving me lessons. If the lock is simple, I can open it.” He was thoroughly heartened by the look of shocked surprise on Actor’s face. “So I was getting fed up with being locked inside places I didn’t want to be in,” he offered by way of explanation. “We’ll need an electrician’s van, equipment and overalls. Chief?” When he got no reply, he glanced up. Chief, predictably, was standing by the window and gazing out. Uncharacteristically, he gave no sign of having heard his name called. Garrison called again. Chief started. For several seconds he looked confused, as though unsure of where he was and how he’d got there, then he turned to face the other men. “Warden?” he asked softly. 

Both Actor and Garrison frowned. It was unlike Chief to be so detached during the planning of a mission. Whilst he frequently feigned indifference during Garrison’s briefings, Chief nevertheless paid very close attention and never missed any of the details. 

“We’ll need an electrician’s van, equipment and overalls,” Garrison repeated. “You think you could get those?” 

Chief nodded once before turning his gaze back to the window. Garrison did not need to make eye-contact with Actor to know that the big Italian shared his concern. Chief was distracted. Preoccupied. 

_Vulnerable._

Just as Actor had said he would be. Back at the mansion, Chief’s inattention could have been overlooked, excused as understandable, even to be expected under the circumstances. Here, there was a very good chance it would get him killed. Possibly get them all killed. 

_What the Hell have I brought him to?_ Swallowing hard, Garrison turned his attention back to Actor. “Do you think you can find out if that room is currently occupied? And the one above it?” 

“Assuredly,” came the confident reply. “Would you like me to run interference while you are searching the room?”

Garrison was intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I thought an impromptu visit by a hotel inspector might be suitably diverting for the management.”

Garrison smiled, following Actor’s train of thought. “They’ll be sure to keep you well away from the room if they thought it was uninhabitable or dangerous.” 

“Precisely,” Actor agreed. 

Glancing briefly at the still figure standing by the window, Garrison wound up the session. “Ok, I make it 1400 now. Meet back here at 1600.” Actor consulted his own watch and nodded.

“Chief?” Garrison called softly. This time he got an immediate response. “You’re on me. Let’s go check out the municipal electricity board.”

***

Gaining access to Room 27 proved startlingly easy. The overflowing bath in the room above was not discovered for several hours, by which time the damage done to the ceiling and plasterwork of the room below was both extensive and unsightly.

Two maids were still arguing vociferously with the concierge over who was responsible when Garrison and Chief entered the hotel lobby. Garrison explained that they’d been sent to check the wiring after a leak, to ensure that it was not dangerous. No sooner had the concierge called the hotel manager to the front desk then Actor breezed in and presented his credentials. 

The concierge looked horrified. The hotel manager looked as though he was going to faint. The maids appraised Chief with undisguised interest. 

Sweating profusely, the manager brushed off Actor’s enquiries about the presence of the electricians with a dismissive “the annual inspection, vital of course, but alas, so tedious,” before instructing one of the maids to “show the gentlemen upstairs.” He would personally take the inspector on a tour of the hotel’s “excellent and very highly regarded kitchen.” 

Notebook and pen in hand and beaming genially, Actor allowed himself to be led away.

Once in the hotel room, Chief and Garrison made a show of unpacking various pieces of equipment and inspecting the state of the ceiling fixture, Garrison doing the talking and Chief nodding at opportune moments. The maid, unfortunately, showed no sign of leaving and every sign of wanting to remain in the room so she could continue to flirt quite shamelessly with Chief. Even the young man’s dark scowls did not deter her and it took a firm rebuke from Garrison before she finally made her excuses and left. 

Garrison looked at his youngest and couldn’t help laughing at the expression of embarrassment on the man’s face. Chief blushed to the roots of his hair before giving the Warden a look very similar to the ones he’d given the maid. Garrison just laughed harder and began a systematic search of the room. 

“You know where to look?” Chief asked him. 

“No,” Garrison replied, running his hand around the inside of the bedstead. “But there were places we were trained to use. Places a little more ‘off beat’ for hiding things. Jim would have…” He bit off the comment at Chief’s sharp intake of breath, silently cursing himself for dropping his defences. 

“You knew him? The guy they captured?” 

Garrison took a deep breath to steady himself, kept on searching. “Yeah,” he said shortly. “We were in the same class at West Point.” 

“A friend?” Chief asked quietly. 

Images of Jim McLean flooded Garrison’s mind. The day they’d met at the Point. Getting blind drunk after a particularly brutal training session. That crazy caper to steal the drill sergeant’s dog. 

_Damn, damn, damn._

He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands and suppressed the images with equal ruthlessness. “Yeah,” was all he allowed himself. Then, “C’mon, help me search.” 

They found the microfilm ten minutes later, hidden inside one of the bed knobs.

***

Back at the shepherd’s hut they were using as their temporary base, Actor recounted the details of his tour of the hotel as Garrison showed him the microfilm. “So, the agent did not break after all” Actor mused, holding the microfilm carefully between thumb and forefinger.

“I guess not,” Garrison said quietly. He did not see the signals exchanged between Chief and Actor. The younger man nudging his chin in the direction of the Warden and briefly shaking his head in warning. Actor’s almost imperceptible answering nod. 

The con man effortlessly changed the subject. “The tour of that kitchen has made me quite ravenous. Do we have anything to eat?” 

Garrison rummaged in his pack. “K-rations,” he said without enthusiasm. Actor looked at them with distaste. 

Chief pushed himself off the window ledge and headed for the door. “I’ll take the first watch. See what I can find.” Without a backward glance he stepped outside. A minute later Actor followed, to find Chief waiting for him. 

“That agent who got killed? Was a friend of the Warden.” 

“A good friend?” Actor’s voice was laced with concern. 

“Seemed like,” Chief said, his eyes restlessly scanning the surroundings. 

“Damn.” Actor shook his head. 

His information delivered, Chief was eager to be moving again. He left on silent feet.

***

Chief settled against the base of the tree. Although he was hidden from the view of anyone approaching from the direction of the town, he could still see almost one hundred yards down the path that led to the hut.

He’d give it an hour and then check the snares he’d set. There were plenty of rabbits in the nearby fields. If he got lucky they’d have rabbit stew for supper. The late afternoon air was still, the sunshine warm on Chief’s face. He turned towards the sun, closed his eyes and let it ease the frozen, aching core of him. 

_Danny._

His chest constricted painfully and he choked back a sob. 

_Danny._

He fell asleep without even realising it… 

… to awaken abruptly – every instinct screaming. 

_Danger!_

Voices. German voices. 

Holding himself stock-still against the trunk of the tree, he closed his eyes again and let his ears focus on the voices. 

Behind him, ten maybe twenty yards. 

Two of them. 

Behind him. 

_Shit!_

Between him and the shepherd’s hut, where the others were waiting, counting on him to alert them to danger. They’d both been exhausted. Hell, they were probably asleep, trusting him to keep them safe. 

They’d be slaughtered. 

The switchblade was in his hand without conscious thought. Silently, so very slowly, he turned in the direction of the voices and started moving towards them. The two soldiers had clearly been foraging for food. One of them had two fat rabbits strung over his shoulder and neither man seemed to be in any particular hurry to get to wherever it was that they were going. Chief watched them amble through the vegetation and willed them to keep moving and give the shepherd’s hut a wide berth. For a while it looked as if they would do just that, but then one of the soldiers gestured in the direction of the hut. The other looked up at the sky, as if judging how much daylight they had left, and then nodded. Tossing the rabbits to his friend, he laid his rifle against a nearby tree and started to unzip his pants. The other soldier walked ahead, leaving his colleague to his toilet. Chief crept up behind the preoccupied soldier and slid his knife into the man’s heart. He caught the body as it fell and eased it to the ground. Wiping the blade of his knife on the dead man’s jacket, he set off in silent pursuit of the other man.

When he realised that his friend was not following him, the second soldier stopped and called out. Receiving no reply, he called again, louder this time, and turned round to look for his friend. When he could see no sign of him, he dropped the rabbits to the ground, unshipped his rifle from his shoulder, and very cautiously, very warily, started back the way he had come. 

Knife at the ready, Chief waited until the man had passed the bush in which he was hiding, then rose slowly and approached the soldier from behind. He was almost within throwing range when a twig snapped noisily beneath his foot. 

The soldier whirled around and started to raise his rifle to his shoulder. 

Chief flew at him and the soldier was forced to swing the gun like a club to fend the Indian off. Chief dropped his switchblade and grabbed the rifle with both hands. The men rolled on the ground, over and over, each trying to wrestle the gun from the other’s grasp. 

With a strength borne of desperation, Chief managed to wedge a knee under the rifle and lever it out of the soldier’s hands. It spun away into the vegetation, the stock catching Chief painfully under the chin and momentarily stunning him. 

The soldier used the distraction to roll Chief onto his back and straddle him, pinning him to the ground with his body weight. He swiftly drew his bayonet from its sheath at his belt. Chief frantically gripped the man’s wrists to stop the deadly blade’s downward progress. The soldier was considerably bigger than Chief. Heavier too. Inexorably, the bayonet tip was forced closer and closer to Chief’s stomach, until he knew that he’d have to do something drastic to avoid being gutted. Bracing his legs against the ground, he forced a knee up between the soldier’s legs. Howling in agony, the soldier lurched forwards, deflecting the path of the bayonet down and to one side. 

But not enough. 

The blade sank deep into Chief’s side and the Indian choked back a cry of agony as it was twisted in his flesh. Using the last reserves of his strength, he pushed the other man off his chest, hissing as the bayonet was dragged from his flesh. Finally able to draw the switchblade from his boot, Chief threw it with unerring accuracy, taking the soldier in the centre of his chest. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Whimpering in pain, Chief clutched his hand against his side and tried to stem the flow of blood, his vision already starting to grey. 

_Get back to the hut. Warn the others._

He dragged himself upright, ignoring the savage pain in his side, and staggered towards the hut. When he could walk no further, he crawled instead. He knew he was leaving a blood trail, but he couldn’t do anything about that. 

_Get to the hut._

_Warn the Warden and Actor._

_Get to the hut._

_Warn the others._

An eternity later, he was at the door. It opened as he leant against it and he fell into the arms of his shocked commander, managing only a single word before the darkness claimed him. 

“Krauts.”

***

The sun was high in the sky and the air warm with the promise of spring when the milk truck pulled up in front of the gates of Archbury airfield and discharged its content of weary airmen. The men waved the driver off with heartfelt calls of thanks, grateful for the man’s kindness. He had driven nearly fifty miles out of his way to bring them back to their base.

After bailing out over the South Downs the previous evening, the young men had been picked up by the local branch of the Home Guard and taken to their headquarters in a church hall in the little village of Winchelsea. There, the men had spent the night, warmed by a large log fire and the kindness and generosity of the villagers, who had brought blankets, pillows and food for them when it became clear that the exhausted airmen would not be able to return to their base because of the ferocity of the storm. 

With the phone lines down, the bomber crew hadn’t even been able to contact the airfield to find out the fate of their skipper, crewmate and plane. Now, finally home and damn glad to be there, their fatigue and cares were momentarily forgotten, and laughing at a shared joke, they turned and walked towards the barrier blocking the entrance to the airfield.

“Well if you guys aren’t a sight for sore eyes,” the guard on duty said with a smile. “We were wondering when you’d… Holy Shit!!”

He stared at the men before him in shocked horror, unable to complete his sentence. The airmen fell into confused silence. 

“That’s one hell of a welcome, Mike,” remarked the leading airman, a burly, redheaded, 2nd lieutenant with a strong Brooklyn accent. He was as confused by the man’s reaction as the rest of his crew. The guard ignored him and continued to stare at the man standing at the lieutenant’s side. 

Alerted by his colleague’s expletive, a second guard appeared from the guardhouse and walked towards the men. “Hey Mike, what’s up?” he asked, glancing at the assembled airmen. His head snapped round in a double take. 

“Jesus Christ!!” 

He stared, as did his colleague, at the flight sergeant standing beside the lieutenant. 

“Well, I know I ain’t him,” drawled Danny Garvey. 

“You boys wanna let us in on the joke?”

***

It was almost dark by the time Garrison returned to the barn where they’d taken refuge. One look at his drawn face and Actor’s stomach churned.

“It’s not good.” Garrison began. “The hospital took a direct hit in a bombing raid on the marshalling yard. The surviving patients and personnel were relocated to a convent ten miles from here. There’s a retired doctor who lives nearby. He’s our best chance.” 

_He’s Chief’s only chance_ thought Actor. 

They had not been able to stop the bleeding. The young Indian was barely conscious now, disoriented by pain and loss of blood. He would not be able to travel much further. Wearily, Garrison knelt beside his stricken scout and started to ease Chief into a sitting position so he could lift him across his shoulders. 

“Come,” Actor said gently. “I will carry him this time.” 

Garrison nodded his assent, rising stiffly. Actor carefully gathered Chief into his arms and cradled the younger man against his chest. Pain-filled eyes flickered open at the movement and fixed on Actor’s face. Actor gazed down and smiled reassuringly. “We have found help. You are safe, Chief. Go back to sleep.”

The eyes blinked once, twice, closed again. Chief turned his head into the security of the Italian’s broad chest and surrendered to the pain. Feeling the body in his arms go limp, Actor murmured, “We do not have much time.” 

They found the house easily enough, a modest dwelling set aside from the others at one end of the town and standing in gardens edged by a high, red brick wall. The door was opened to Garrison’s determined and persistent knocking by an elderly gentleman wearing a dressing gown. The man’s annoyance at being disturbed vanished the moment he caught sight of the white-faced youth in the arms of the older man. 

“Please,” Actor said anxiously. “We were told you are a doctor. My boy has been hurt.” He glanced down at Chief. “I cannot stop the bleeding. Please help us. We have nowhere else to go.” 

“My son,” the elderly man said sadly. “I no longer practice medicine.” He held up his hands, the fingers twisted and crippled by arthritis. “There is a hospital in a convent in the next…”

“There is no time.” Actor interrupted. “He is bleeding to death. Please, please tell me what to do. I will be your hands. Just tell me what to do.” 

The emotion in his voice and the despair on his face were enough to persuade the old doctor. He nodded his agreement. “Very well. Come with me.” He led them down the hallway and into what had once been his consulting room. Drawing a dustcover from the long disused examination table, he stepped back as Actor carefully laid Chief down on it. 

“It’s his side. A knife wound,” Actor said by way of explanation.

The doctor glanced up to look questioningly at Actor, but it was Garrison who answered.  
“It was an accident.” The tone was subdued and respectful, Garrison playing the part they had agreed beforehand to perfection. “I never meant to hurt…” 

“Silence!” growled Actor. 

Garrison tried again. “Uncle, please, you have to believe…” 

He was again silenced by Actor, who glared at him and snapped, “Not now, Etienne!”

“Please show me the wound,” the doctor asked, returning his attention to his patient. 

Actor unwrapped the makeshift bandage from around Chief’s belly. Noting the roll of fabric that Actor had placed under the bandage to maintain direct pressure on the wound, the physician nodded his approval. “How long ago was he injured?” His eyes were still fixed on his patient. 

Actor glanced at his watch. “Four hours.” He did not have to fake the concern in his voice.

“And you have had pressure on the wound for how long?” asked the elderly physician.

“Almost as soon as it happened.” Actor again glared at Garrison, who hurriedly dropped his gaze.

“This is not good,” murmured the old doctor as the knife-wound was revealed to him. The wound still bled, the blood dark, the wadded pad of material Actor removed, soaked through. “From the flow and colour of the blood, I would say that the blade opened a vein. That is why the bleeding will not stop.” He turned grave eyes towards Actor. “He needs a surgeon, not a country doctor. I am sorry. I will not be able to save him.” 

Garrison’s shocked gasp was drowned out by Actor’s anguished moan of denial. “There must be something you can do? Please!” Actor begged. 

The doctor looked down at the face of his patient. _So young_ , he thought. _Barely a man._

 _Too young to die._

Taking a deep breath, he fixed his gaze on Actor’s face. “There is one thing we can try, if you agree to it. It will require a steady hand and a strong stomach.“ 

Actor briefly closed his eyes against the pain, knowing what the doctor was going to suggest. 

“Tell me.”

***

The voices were distant and Chief had trouble making out the words. His side throbbed mercilessly, the pain stealing his breath and making his head pound.

 _Dizzy. So dizzy._

He felt sick. Couldn’t think. His world spun, a sickening kaleidoscope of sound, and light, and pain. Always the pain. The voices drifted further away and he struggled to find his way back to them. 

Hands lifted him into strong arms and held him securely as he breathed in the reassuring scent of sandalwood, musk and tobacco smoke.

 _The Warden._

He forced his eyes open, fighting the pain that clawed at him, and looked up into the desperately concerned face of his commander. Chief wanted to reassure him, tell him not to worry, but he couldn’t make the words come out. The Warden was speaking, but Chief couldn’t make out what he was saying, the words washing across his mind like rain across glass. His face must have registered his confusion because the Warden stopped speaking, smiled sadly, then gently turned Chief’s face into the shelter of his chest. Chief settled there with a contented sigh. He was where he’d wanted to be for such a long time. Nothing else mattered. He accepted, without question or resistance, the wad of fabric that was carefully pressed between his teeth. 

Another voice, asking a question, but Chief couldn’t understand what was said. The Warden replied “Oui.” Yes, thought Chief. 

_So hard to think._

The arms around him tightened and a weight settled across his thighs, pining his legs hard to the table. Frightened, Chief tried to sit up, but the arms that had held him so safely now trapped him. Hard hands had always presaged terrible things and, terrified, he struggled all the more fiercely, the movement sending savage stabs of agony through his injured side and fuelling his fear. 

Actor’s face was above his own. Pleading with him. Telling him ‘Non!” over and over. 

_Non. No._

_Why?_

Actor took Chief’s face in his hands, gently stroking the scout’s forehead until he quieted and calmed. The Italian’s eyes were full of sorrow, deeply regretful. Again, he tenderly stroked Chief’s face before gently pressing the wad of fabric between Chief’s teeth.

And Chief understood. They were trying to help him but it was gonna hurt. He had to trust them. Not fight. He nodded then, turned his head back into the shelter of his commander’s shoulder and surrendered himself to them. The arms around him tightened. The pressure returned to his legs, pressing them hard against the table. He ground his cheek against the Warden’s chest and forced himself not to fight. 

The pain, when it came, was excruciating. He arched off the table, biting down hard against the fabric wad to stifle his scream. The smell of burning flesh filled the air and then he was back at the airfield, screaming his brother’s name, watching his world fall apart. 

When the darkness rose up to claim him, he welcomed it.

***

“Enough,” said the elderly physician. Actor lifted the cautery away from Chief’s side immediately. “Now, let me see.” The doctor carefully scrutinised the seared flesh, searching for a further issue of blood. None was forthcoming. With a sigh of relief, he nodded. “Good, good. The bleeding has stopped.”

“Oh, thank God,” murmured a white-faced Actor, returning the heated iron to the hearth. Garrison took a shaky breath and fought the urge to vomit. 

The doctor checked Chief’s pulse and found it rapid and weak. To be expected, under the circumstances, he told the other men, especially considering how much blood the young man had lost. “Now he must rest quietly. If he moves he could break open the wound and start the bleeding again, so he must remain here tonight. You are all welcome to stay.” He looked at his watch. “It is after curfew, so it would not be safe for you to leave anyway. There are beds enough, or if you prefer, you can carry mattresses down here and sleep on the floor. It is probably best that you do not leave your son alone tonight. Waking in a strange place might disconcert him and I would not want him injuring himself looking for you.”

Actor’s thanks were heartfelt and profuse. “I have little enough to pay you with,” he said, holding out a meagre assortment of notes, “but what I have is yours.” 

The old doctor smiled and shook his head. “Please, keep your money. I have no doubt you will need it to get your son home. That I was able to help you is payment enough.” With a sad smile he added “It has been a long time since I could help anyone. Even longer since I had reason to be glad.”

Actor nodded, his throat too tight to speak. 

“Now, let me get some bandages and gauze from the other room so you can dress the wound.”

Actor watched the doctor leave before turning his attention back to the other occupants of the room. Garrison still cradled Chief in his arms, his face averted. Only when Actor met his gaze did he see the depth of the officer’s emotion. The sea-green eyes were filled with concern, deeply shocked, bright with unshed eyes. 

_He blames himself for what has happened, as he always does when something goes wrong and one of us is hurt. He takes so much upon himself._

_Too much._

_I forget sometimes that he is still so young._

_So young and so very alone._

Garrison seemed to have aged overnight, a far cry from the vital, enthusiastic young officer who had breezed into Actor’s life a year before and changed it forever. His earlier anger spent, Actor gently squeezed Garrison’s shoulder in silent reassurance. The compassionate touch was more than the exhausted, overwrought Garrison could endure. Lowering his gaze he turned his head away, fighting back tears.

***

“He does not feature you,” the old physician said as he settled into the chair beside Actor’s and picked up his coffee cup.

“Mmm?” Actor responded, pulled from his reverie. 

“Yves,” the doctor expanded. 

“No,” Actor murmured. “There is no reason why he should. He was abandoned on the church steps when he was little more than a babe. Even then they must have realised that he was… different. Quieter. He rarely speaks. My wife, God rest her soul, used to clean the church and arrange the flowers. She found him, and loved him at first sight, and brought him home to me. When no one came forward to claim him, we kept him. You see, we had recently lost our own child and my wife could not have another.” 

He looked over at the sleeping Chief, his voice warmly affectionate. “’Our gift from God’ she would say.” Looking back at the doctor, he said quietly, “In all the ways that matter, he is my son.” There was an edge to his tone, as though the claim had been questioned, perhaps even rejected, in the past. 

“And Etienne?” asked the older man. 

“My nephew,’ Actor replied. “After Liege was bombed, my sister thought he would be safer with me. He and Yves were always close as children, but now they are inseparable.” He sighed heavily. 

“You do not approve?” asked the doctor, gesturing to the coffee pot on the small table between them and indicating that Actor should help himself. Nodding his thanks, Actor filled the doctor’s cup before refilling his own. 

“My approval would have little bearing on the situation. I could no more keep those two apart than stop the sun rising.” He sipped at his coffee, savouring the taste. “Yves would follow Etienne to Hell itself if he asked him to, with no thought of the consequences. Etienne is not a bad boy and he is truly very fond of Yves. It is just that he can be so… single-minded at times and that can blind him to the danger in a situation. Like today. And then they are both vulnerable…” His voice trailed off. 

“And you are left to pick up the pieces, eh?” supplied the doctor, nodding his understanding. 

“Indeed,” Actor’s murmur was heart-felt. “But I do not begrudge them their devotion. In these uncertain times there is so little that one can rely on. Those two know they can rely on each other completely.” 

“Would that we were all so blessed,” the doctor said with a wry smile. 

Actor smiled back before looking at the subjects of their discussion. Chief was soundly asleep on the examination table, warmly wrapped in blankets, his face turned towards Garrison. Garrison was asleep in a chair he had pulled close to the table. His head rested on one arm, the arm resting on Chief’s pillow. Garrison’s other hand rested on Chief’s chest, providing both men with the comforting reassurance of the other’s presence. 

“A blessing indeed,” Actor said softly.

***

They left the doctor’s house the following day, Garrison having procured the use of a horse and cart so they could take the invalided Chief “home.” Neither Garrison nor Actor wanted to put the kindly doctor at further risk, and both agreed that the sooner they were out of the area, the safer it would be for all concerned. Before they left, Actor placed the banknotes the physician had refused the previous evening on the centre of the examination table for the elderly man to find after their departure.

The bombing of the hospital, terrible though it had been, turned out to be a blessing in disguise. When they were stopped at two road blocks they used it to explain Chief’s injury and why they were having to transport him when he was still so ill. Chief spent most of the day asleep, exhausted by blood loss and the trauma of the previous days. Nightfall found them in a disused hunting lodge just outside Angers. 

An ancient bedstead dominated the larger of the two bedrooms and, after settling a fractious Chief onto it and changing the dressing on his side with supplies provided by the elderly physician, Actor returned to the kitchen to see what Garrison had procured for supper. He was pleasantly surprised by the appetising aroma that greeted him. Garrison was poised over the ancient stove, stirring the contents of a saucepan. 

“That smells good,” Actor said approvingly. 

“Rabbit stew,” Garrison replied. “I can’t promise it’ll taste as good as it smells. How’s Chief?” 

“Already complaining about the inactivity. I had to threaten to tie him to the bed to prevent him from following me in here.”

“He must be feeling better,” Garrison said with a smile, before returning his attention to the stew. 

“Yes, but he is still far from well,” Actor cautioned. “He lost a lot of blood and is still very weak. Whether he likes it or not, he will have to do a lot more lying around in the next few days.” Coming to stand behind Garrison, Actor looked over his shoulder into the saucepan. “That smells very good indeed,” he said warmly. “What’s in it?” 

“Potatoes and onions from the allotment out back and I found some wild garlic by the stream in the woods.” 

Actor was impressed. “With talent like this, why do you not cook when we are back at the mansion? I would happily forgo a repetition of Goniff’s Turnip Surprise in favour of this stew any day.” 

Wincing at the memory, Garrison replied with a smile. “Rank has its privileges.” 

“Really?” Actor joked. He was shocked to see the smile drain from the young officer’s face. 

“Not many,” Garrison replied tightly, unconsciously glancing towards the room where Chief lay. “There’s always someone with a higher rank whose privileges exceed yours.” 

Actor’s eyes narrowed.

***

“You did refuse this mission, didn’t you?” Actor’s gaze was penetrating.

Garrison turned to face the Italian and nodded. There was no reason to lie now. “Wilcox made it a direct order. Said I’d be court-martialled if I refused.” He smiled wryly. “Again.”

Actor understood only too well. Garrison was career-army and would not disobey a direct order from a superior. “You would think that the Army had learnt its lesson from the last debacle,” the Italian replied dryly. More gently he added, “I did wonder why you had accepted the mission.” 

“I didn’t,” Garrison said unexpectedly. “I still refused it. I told him it’d be suicide. He’ll probably have a squad of MPs waiting to haul my ass to the stockade when we get back.” 

Garrison’s face showed his amusement at his second’s consternation. Regaining his composure Actor studied him for long moments. “He threatened you with something else then. Something that meant more to you than your army career. That is why you accepted the mission.” 

Garrison was silent, suddenly reluctant for Actor to know the truth, but Actor, being Actor, had already worked it out. 

“He threatened to send us back to prison, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Garrison acknowledged softly, unable to meet the Italian’s gaze. “He’d already had the order written up. Said he’d sign it if I didn’t take the mission.” He shrugged dismissively. “So I did.” 

“You were very insistent that Chief should come with us,” Actor continued, working through the logic. “What was Wilcox going to do to him if he did not accompany us?” 

Garrison fought back the wave of anger that the memory of Wilcox’s words stirred inside him. “Throw him in the stockade. He said cons belonged in prison and if Chief wasn’t up to going on the mission, he could sit it out in the stockade.” 

Actor saw the way the young officer’s hands clenched into fists and felt the same fury well up inside himself. “He would not have survived.” 

“I know,” murmured Garrison. “That’s why I wouldn’t leave him behind.” 

Actor recalled the harsh words he had exchanged with his commander before the mission and bitterly regretted them. “I am sorry that I doubted you,” he said quietly. 

“Forget it,” Garrison replied. “You were upset and I wasn’t exactly straight with you.” 

Actor shook his head. “Nevertheless, I should have known better. Despite your army training, you are a deeply compassionate man. I should have realised that you would not put Chief at such risk without good cause. I apologise.”

Pain flashed briefly in Garrison’s fine eyes. A dull flush darkened his cheeks and he dropped his gaze. “Apology accepted,” he murmured, and turned back to the stove. 

Actor wondered briefly at the reaction. Comprehension swiftly followed. Very gently, he asked, “When are you going to tell Chief?” 

Garrison froze. “Tell him what?” he asked, face still averted as he busied himself with the stew. 

“That you love him,” Actor said simply. 

Garrison’s head flew up, the expression on his face a mixture of shock and misery.

“You do, don’t you?” Actor pressed. 

For a moment Garrison considered denying it, tried desperately to find the words to tell Actor he was wrong, but they simply would not come. Tired of fighting his own need, tired of denying his own feelings, he realised that he wanted Actor to know the truth. “I can’t afford to. It’s too dangerous.” 

“Because of what the Army would do to you if they found out that you were having an affair with one of your men?” Actor thought that highly unlikely. Garrison never thought of himself. 

“No,” replied Garrison, confirming Actor’s assumption. “I’m past caring about what the Army will do to me. The court martial saw to that.” He sighed heavily. “It’s too dangerous for Chief. For all of you. If the army found out, they’d throw the book at me and throw you guys back in prison. I don’t have the right to jeopardise your paroles.” He looked down at the floor again. “Besides, Chief’s made his choice.” He looked up at the handsome Italian and smiled sadly. “I won’t get in the way.” 

Actor had been wondering about that. He thought back to their confrontation at the mansion. Garrison had not seemed the least bit surprised when Chief had walked out of Actor’s bedroom. 

Which meant that Garrison had already known that he was there. 

Actor had not heard Garrison return to the mansion, even though Garrison would surely have wanted to speak to Actor and Chief as soon as he got back. Yet Garrison had let them sleep undisturbed until dawn. Garrison’s interview with Wilcox would not have taken long, and the drive back from G2 would have taken no more than an hour. Which meant that in all likelihood, Garrison had returned to the mansion and come looking for Actor when he and Chief had been… 

_Ah._

“You heard us together,” Actor said quietly. 

Garrison did not speak. The blush staining his cheeks was answer enough. 

“What happened between us was sex, nothing more,” Actor said gently. “Chief was distraught and in desperate need of comfort. If you had been there I have no doubt he would have turned to you, but you were not. I was, and I care too much about Chief to have turned him away.” He spoke honestly and directly for it was very important that the other man understood what he was saying. “Chief offered me passion and need and considerable pleasure,” Actor smiled fleetingly at the memory of Chief’s lips on his body, “but he did not offer me love, though he is as desperate for it as you are.” 

Garrison turned to look at his second, shock, disbelief and hope all warring on his face. 

“I was merely a surrogate for you. A convenient body with which Chief could find release, in your absence.” Actor paused before continuing. “Chief has made his choice, Craig. He has chosen you.” Gazing back at his stunned friend with gentle affection, Actor asked softly, 

“The question now is, what are you going to do about it?”

***

When Garrison went to check on Chief he found his young scout leaning heavily against the wall by the bedroom window, his face ashen, his skin sheened with sweat. “Jesus, Chief!” Garrison placed the cup of water he’d been carrying on top of the nightstand. “Who said you could get up?” Hurrying to the man’s side, he wrapped an arm around Chief’s chest, pulled one of the Indian’s arms across his shoulders and helped the young scout back to bed. “Better?” he asked, after Chief was once again settled on the bed.

Chief nodded breathlessly. 

“So stay there. Okay?” 

Chief eyed him rebelliously but nodded anyway.

“You want some stew?” 

Still not trusting his voice, Chief shook his head. 

“Then drink this,” Garrison continued. “You lost a lot of blood and need to take in fluids.” Sitting on the edge of the bed Garrison slipped an arm under Chief's shoulders and lifted him up just enough to hold the cup to his lips without spilling it down his chest. Chief took a quick sip and then another, the cool water soothing his dry lips and parched throat. He closed his eyes and slumped back against Garrison's arm. 

“’Nuf” he said softly, exhausted by the effort. 

“Take a little more,” Garrison encouraged. Chief dutifully obeyed. Garrison eased his head back down onto the pillow. Looking up at his commander and hating that he’d let him down, Chief murmured painfully

“Screwed up…shouldn’t have come. Sorry.”

“You didn’t screw up,” Garrison said gently. “Those soldiers would’ve killed us if not for you. And as for not coming – hell, none of us should have been on this damn mission.” 

He reached out, carefully brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from Chief’s forehead, gently stroked the back of his hand against Chief’s cheek. The tender touch, so close to the one Chief craved, was more than the young Indian could bear. 

“Don’t,” Chief whispered. He closed his eyes against the familiar wave of loneliness and pain. Opening them again, he fixed his pain-wracked gaze on the man who had become everything to him, knowing that he stood on the edge of a precipice. Too hurt and too needful, too lost and too lonely to stop himself, he threw himself into the void. “Not unless you mean it.”

Breath catching in his throat at the despair in Chief’s voice, the pain on his face, Garrison moved swiftly to reassure him, and with a tenderness he had never shown anyone before, he leant forward and pressed his lips gently against Chief’s. Quietly, he said, “I mean it, Chief.”

Letting his emotions show on his face, Garrison saw them mirrored on Chief’s – fear, hope, longing and love. 

“You sure?” Chief asked – desperate for reassurance. 

Garrison smiled shyly. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Chief weakly lifted a hand, tried to touch Garrison’s face. It was promptly captured by one of Garrison’s and pressed gently to the officer’s lips. Closing his eyes, Chief turned his head away, his chest heaving. 

“Hey,” Garrison said gently. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make this work, but first you need to rest. Get well.” He smiled encouragingly when the young Indian looked back at him. “Got a lot of things I want us to do when you’re better,” he said, his voice soft and sensual. 

Ill as he was, Chief’s eyes smouldered. “Me too,” he replied, his voice husky with passion. “Dreamt some pretty wild shit about you.” 

Chief’s gaze was doing strange things to Garrison’s stomach. And lower. The officer shifted on the bed to ease his painfully constricted erection. 

Noticing his commander’s discomfort, the source of which was making itself very evident through the thin material of Garrison’s pants, Chief said incredulously, “Damn, I’m only lookin’ at you.” 

Garrison blushed. “It’s… uh… been a while,” he murmured, the blush deepening. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Ain’t worryin’ ‘bout that,” Chief drawled. 

Garrison started to relax. 

“Worryin’ about whatcha gonna do when I get my mouth on you.” 

Garrison moaned and bit his lip. Chief laughed. Garrison thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “Okay, enough with the worrying,” he said with a smile. “Right now you need to sleep and heal. Then we have to figure out how we get back home.”

“Liked my plan better,” Chief said with a yawn. His eyelids drooped. 

“So did I,” Garrison replied softly, pulling the blanket up around Chief’s shoulders. He lent forward and kissed Chief again - an unhurried, lingering, loving caress that was rich with the promise of things to come. It left the younger man gasping for breath. 

“Oh damn,” Chief moaned when Garrison drew away. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. 

This time it was Garrison’s turn to laugh, the sound deep and throaty. “Go to sleep, Chief. That’s an order.” 

“Like that’s gonna happen now,” Chief muttered truculently. But he shut his eyes nevertheless and settled back against the pillow with a sigh. 

“Sleep, Chief,” Garrison repeated, carding his hand through Chief’s hair, lovingly stroking the Indian’s forehead with his thumb, revelling in the simple pleasure of just being able to touch the man. 

“I’ll be right here.” 

Chief slept.

***

It took them five days to get back to the French coast. Having been given no information about the local resistance by G2 in case they had been compromised by the captured agent, they had had to rely on their own initiative and resources to get them back to the coast. Fortunately, Garrison had resistance contacts of long standing near St. Malo and it was with their help that a message was finally sent to G2 and a pick-up arranged. Now they waited in the safe house until the appointed hour and their rendezvous with the plane that would take them back to England.

Since the Maquis had sentries posted there was no need to set a watch, so the three men sat around the farmhouse table, Actor and Garrison tucking into the food and wine that had been left for them. Chief barely picked at the food, his attention focused on the flames from the log fire. 

“This wine is surprisingly good,” Actor murmured, swirling the ruby liquid around in his glass and breathing in the bouquet before savouring a mouthful. “I do so enjoy a good Merlot.”

“Pascal is an old friend,” Garrison said with a smile and held out his glass.

“So it would seem,” Actor agreed cheerfully as he expertly topped up the Warden’s drink. 

“Chief?” Actor asked quietly. Chief continued to stare at the fire, oblivious to the presence of his friends and Actor’s gentle enquiry. 

Garrison exchanged a concerned glance with Actor. As they’d got closer and closer to the coast Chief had become more and more withdrawn. 

Garrison called Chief’s name. This time the Indian turned to gaze at him with haunted eyes.

“You reckon they’ll let me take Danny home?” Chief swallowed hard and looked away, the conversation impossibly hard for him.

Garrison cursed himself for not have brought up the subject before. Chief hadn’t spoken about his brother since they’d embarked on the mission. Garrison had been so worried about Chief himself that he had given little thought to what the young man was going back to England to face. Clearly it had been weighing very heavily on Chief’s mind. 

“If that’s what you want, Chief, I’ll make enquiries.” Garrison replied. “I’m sure it can be arranged.”

Chief nodded slowly. “Never had much of a home but there was this one place, special to our people. Danny…” he broke off, fighting to control his emotions. “Danny liked it there.” 

“I’ll sort it out,” Garrison promised, already calculating which favours he could call in to make it happen. 

“Perhaps you could visit with Jenny while you are in America?” Actor suggested. It would be good for Chief to see his sister, if only to further reassure him that he was not alone. 

He saw the look of horror on Chief’s face and knew immediately that he had said the wrong thing. 

“Oh shit! I didn’t think. She’ll have got a telegram!” 

Chief was sickened by his thoughtlessness. Jenny was his baby sister. He was supposed to look out for her. He’d failed both of them. First Danny, now Jenny… 

“I should’ve called her. Let her know. She shouldn’t have heard it like that. Oh, shit!” 

His voice was tinged with panic, shaking with emotion. He stood up too abruptly and his head spun. Swaying dizzily, he was swept into strong arms and eased back down into the chair. 

“Take it easy,” Garrison said gently, one hand resting reassuringly on Chief’s shoulder. “You can call her when we get back to the estate. Do you have a number for her?”

Chief shook his head slowly. “Just an address,” he murmured. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to get his breathing under control.

Garrison gently rubbed his back. “I’m sure the local exchange will still be able to connect the call.” 

Chief took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “Sorry,” he whispered, ashamed at his loss of control.

“Don’t be,” Garrison said firmly. “You’ve every right to be upset. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through right now, but you don’t have to go through it alone. Just tell me what you need. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” 

“As will I,” Actor added, his rich voice calm and reassuring. He handed Chief a glass of water. “Drink.” 

Chief took the glass with shaking hands and drained it, before handing it back to Actor with a soft murmur of thanks. Picking up his own glass along with the plates from the table, Actor walked into the kitchen. 

Once again, Garrison found himself immensely grateful to the big Italian for both his discretion and his impeccable sense of timing. Alone with Chief, the lieutenant dropped to one knee beside his stricken scout and gently reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. 

“You won’t have to do this alone, Rainey,” he said softly. “I’ll be right beside you. We’ll do it together.” 

Chief captured Garrison’s hand in his own and pressed it to his lips. “I know,” he breathed. “It means…” he struggled to find the words to tell this man what that support meant to him. “Everything,” he finished with a frustrated shrug. “Ain’t never had no one like you before.” 

He gazed with adoring eyes at the man who would soon be his lover, the emotion in the ebony depths more eloquently than any words he could have spoken. 

Garrison gazed back with love and concern. “Me neither,” he said softly. “It feels good.”

He leant forwards and kissed Chief gently, coaxing his lips open to permit him access. Arms tightened around him and then he was lost in the intoxicating taste and feel of his lover’s mouth. When both men broke apart they were shaken by the passion that the simple contact had ignited.

“Things will get better,” Garrison promised. 

Chief nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. Panting softly he let himself be pulled against Garrison’s chest, sighing against Garrison’s neck. He held the other man close and let the familiar scent of sandalwood, tobacco smoke and musk sooth his tortured soul.

For long minutes they stayed like that, savouring the reassuring closeness, until a quiet cough announced Actor’s imminent return. They drew apart reluctantly, yearning and desire in sea-green eyes finding a mirror in sable depths. 

“Soon,” Garrison whispered sensuously. Chief shivered at the prospect, echoing the promise with a nod. Rising, Garrison returned to the table and sat down. 

“You want something to eat?” he asked in a more normal tone. 

“Yeah,” Chief replied, walking over to join him as Actor strode back into the room. “When do we leave?” 

Garrison consulted his watch. “In just over an hour.”

***

It was still dark when the plane landed at Kenley aerodrome. Despite the noise, all three men had been asleep during the flight and roused themselves reluctantly for the bumpy landing and subsequent disembarkation.

Actor jumped down first, followed swiftly by Garrison. Both men turned to help Chief down. Whilst his wound was on the mend, he was still too sore to tolerate the drop to the ground.

They were surprised to be met by Colonel Edwards and the other Gorillas. 

Garrison saluted before shaking the proffered hand. “Sir…this is a surprise. I didn’t know you were back in England.” The last that Garrison had heard of the Colonel was that he’d accepted a position in Washington and shipped Stateside, which had put Garrison and his team under the control of Colonel Wilcox.

“Too quiet in Washington, Craig,” Colonel Edwards replied as though reading his subordinate’s mind. “Besides, it was brought to my attention that I could do a hell of a lot more good back here.” 

Garrison got the distinct impression that there was a lot more behind the decision then the colonel was letting on. 

“Stop by my office tomorrow,” Edwards continued. “I’ll tell you more about it then.” 

“Your office, sir?” Garrison’s tone was carefully neutral. He didn’t dare hope…

“My old office,” Colonel Edwards said with a wry smile. “Colonel Wilcox had been reassigned. Alice will make an appointment for you.” 

“Very good, sir,” Garrison said. He had to work to keep the smile from his voice. 

“Jeez, you turn your back on them for one minute and they break the Injun,” Casino said by way of welcome, a big grin splitting his face. 

Furious at the man’s insensitivity, Garrison swung round to face him. “Now wait a minute…” 

Edwards held up a hand to silence him.

“And we’ve got someone who really wants to see him,” Goniff finished with a smile.

He and Casino stepped aside. Standing behind them was Danny Garvey. 

In the silence that followed, Chief’s shocked gasp was audible to all of them. A stunned Chief walked towards the brother he’d thought he’d watched die. 

“Hey, Rainey,” Danny said softly at his approach. “It wasn’t me in the Easy.” 

Chief pulled his kid brother into his arms and hugged him fiercely, unable to believe what he was seeing and needing the physical contact to prove that he wasn’t dreaming. Softly he murmured his confusion. “How?” 

“It was my birthday. Davy offered to let me ride in the tail. Kind of a present. It was him in the ball turret. It wasn’t me, Rain.” Tears were running down Danny’s face. “I’m so sorry you thought it was, but it wasn’t me.”

Chief tightened his hold on his brother’s jacket and held him close, unable to see for the tears that filled his own eyes. “Thought I’d lost you, Danny.” His voice broke on his brother’s name. “Thought I’d watched you die.”

“I know,” whispered Danny. “I’m sorry. The phone lines were down because of the storm, so we couldn’t call in. The Skip got decked by the Colonel before he had a chance to say somethin’ and by the time I got back to base and he’d come out from under the anaesthetic, you were gone. Then when you didn’t come back, I thought…” He fought to finish the sentence, his body shaking with sobs he was finding harder and harder to prevent. “Shit, Rainey… I thought you’d got yourself killed thinkin’ I was dead.” 

Chief shut his eyes against the pain in his brother’s voice, shocked at how close he’d come to making that be true. “It’s okay. Danny. It’s okay,” he soothed, reassuringly, stroking his brother’s back the way he used to comfort him when they were children. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Drawing aside to give the two brothers some privacy, Casino and Goniff gravitated towards Actor, who immediately enquired after their injuries. 

“How’d the mission go?” Colonel Edwards asked Garrison.

“We got the microfilm,” Garrison replied tiredly, wondering just how many more of these shocks he’d be able to cope with. “I hope it was worth it.” 

“I know Jim McLean was a friend of yours, Craig,” Edwards said quietly. “The microfilm contains details of a German offensive, vital information on troop positions and movements. It will save hundreds, maybe thousands, of Allied lives. I’m sorry we lost Jim, but his death was not in vain.” He looked at the young officer with something very much akin to a father’s pride. Hearing from Richards (and others) how Wilcox was mishandling his teams was in no small part why he had turned down the Washington promotion and returned to England. “You did well, son.” 

Garrison nodded tiredly, shoulders slumping. Realising that the young man was close to total exhaustion, Edwards called Casino over. “I think it’s time you took the Lieutenant and the rest of the team back to the mansion, don’t you?” 

Casino smiled broadly. “You got it, baby.” Without further ado he turned to address his C.O. “C’mon Warden, we’re parked over there.” Turning back to the Colonel, Casino asked “You good to get the Garvey boys home, Colonel?” 

The brothers were still held in each other’s embrace, heads bowed, comfortably sharing the silence and the knowledge that they both lived.

“I think I can be trusted to manage that,” Edwards said dryly. 

“Beautiful!” Casino whistled to Goniff and Actor. “Hey guys, we’re goin’!” 

Drawing himself upright, Garrison threw a parade-ground salute at Colonel Edwards, then let Casino push him in the direction of the promised ride. Glancing back, he looked at the brothers and smiled softly to himself. Intensely glad for Chief, he briefly wondered if this would change how Chief felt about him. He shrugged the thought off. 

_Danny being alive was the best thing that could have happened to Chief. If there was a price to be paid for that, it’d be worth it._

***

Craig Garrison awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep to find his room still in darkness and certain in the knowledge that he was not alone.

“Been waitin’ for you to wake up.” 

Chief’s soft drawl came from the armchair in the bay window. Garrison looked at his watch. Five am. “Been waiting long?” he asked, not caring why Chief was in his room, grateful only that he was. 

“A lifetime,” came the reply. Then Chief was standing over him, looking down at him, eyes alight with passion. Garrison’s breath caught in his chest as his erection filled and throbbed. The man was so damned beautiful. “Don’t wait any longer,” he said breathlessly, pulling the other man down onto the bed beside him. 

Chief captured Garrison’s mouth with his own and kissed him passionately, thoroughly. Shifting so he could roll Garrison onto his back, Chief continued to ravage Garrison's mouth even as he removed his clothing. Needing to feel as much of Garrison as possible, Chief manoeuvred them until he was lying on top of the other man, their hard erections nestled side by side.

Garrison widened his legs to cradle Chief between them and wrapped his arms around the slim body, suddenly desperate for the contact. Before Chief could react, Garrison thrust against him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Yes!," hissed Chief, matching the speed and force of his thrusts with Garrison’s. 

There was little finesse in their lovemaking, the need too great, the emotions too strong to be restrained beyond the necessary consideration for Chief's healing wound. It was sweet, and fierce, and stunningly brief. 

Garrison’s entire existence seemed to centre on the slick slide of Chief’s body against his sensitive skin and he met each thrust with increasing desperation as the maddening pressure built. Stiffening, he climaxed with a low growl deep in his throat. 

Clutching Garrison’s shoulders, his mouth pressed against his neck, Chief rocked his hips forward one last time and softly cried his lover’s name as he, too, tumbled into orgasm. 

The silence that followed was broken only by harsh gasps as their lungs demanded oxygen and their hearts pounded in their chests, both men shocked by the intensity of the passion they had shared. 

Turning on his side, Garrison gently pulled his trembling lover into his arms and held the younger man close. “Okay?” he asked quietly into the sweat-damp hair. The face that turned towards him stole the breath from his lungs. Chief was smiling at him, eyes shining with contentment as he nodded happily, too exhausted to speak. Garrison smiled back. “Then get some sleep. Then we can do it again.” 

Chief settled once more against Garrison’s chest, moulding his body to that of his lover, and closed his eyes. 

Safe in each other’s arms, the two men slept.

***


End file.
